


endemic

by casualhomesatanism



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anxiety, Autistic Character, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Panic Attacks, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualhomesatanism/pseuds/casualhomesatanism
Summary: Bodhi knew that this could only make him worse. He already felt like a squirming human mass of anxiety, fighting day by day to stay on his feet, and by the time he caught his breath, he was in love with his roommates. He couldn't imagine being anything more than a mess, not to mention something lovable, something deserving of these wonderful people.Love was endemic to the three of them—no, all their friends—but Bodhi swore his case was the worst.





	1. 1. host

**Author's Note:**

> "write what you know," they say, and so I write college AUs about anxious characters learning to love each other and take care of themselves. I'm not quite ready to dive into canon-universe Star Wars fic so I'll start here. enjoy (hopefully)!

“Bodhi. Bodhi.  _ Bodhi. _ Are you there, Bodhi?”

The voice could’ve been coming through a broken walkie-talkie, distant and tinny as it was, but it was unmistakeably Cassian. Something was wrong. He was needed, he had to answer, and it sounded like Cassian was in danger, but it was something he’d heard before. Cassian repeated himself, voice clearer this time and then—Bodhi sat up with a gasp.

Everything was normal.

Gray-striped duvet bunched around his waist, Bodhi reached over and picked up his phone, switching off the obnoxiously calm playlist he reserved for napping. The dorm room looked the same as ever, and Bodhi would think that he’d dreamed Cassian’s voice if it weren’t for the furious knocking on the door.

“Hold on a second,” Bodhi shouted after clearing his throat. His mouth, unfortunately, tasted as it usually did after a three-hour nap. He’d have to try not to breathe anywhere near Cassian’s unsuspecting face. He pulled on a jacket that had been thrown across the foot of the bed and shuffled to the door, unlocking and then opening it. “Forget your key?”

Before Cassian could answer, the door to the suite flew open and Cassian shoved past Bodhi into their shared room, slamming the door and locking it with a massive sigh. “Jyn,” he growled, “is going to kill me, and I do  _ not _ understand why you feel the need to lock the door when you nap. No one can get into the suite except for the four of us.”

“I assume that was her—” Bodhi was cut off by a fresh round of rapid-fire knocking. “Ah. I’m, uh, sorry about the door. There were some d-drunk guys outside, and I kinda. Freaked out.”

Cassian’s face softened. “Oh, Bodhi, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t mad. Just running for my life.” He rubbed Bodhi’s shoulder with one hand, radiating warmth as ever. “Good thing you didn’t barricade the door this time, yeah? I’d be in at least a dozen pieces by now.”

Bodhi smirked, looking back at his bed. “Y-yeah.”

_ “Cassian Andor!” _

Mouth open as if he were half-drowned, Cassian backed farther away from the door as Jyn slammed one foot into it and the whole room trembled. Bodhi knew that Jyn wouldn’t leave him in the line of fire, no matter how angry she was, but he still found himself shaking. “What did you do?” he whispered, holding onto his dresser as if it could keep him stable.

“You two had better have this door open within fifteen seconds if you want to live!” Jyn’s voice was close to a roar, and upon hearing her call them both out, Bodhi paled.  _ What did I do?  _ he mouthed, turning to Cassian in desperation. Cassian had apparently taken the threat to heart, because he swept back over to the door, unlocked it with surprisingly shaky fingers, and then flung himself against the wall so that he wouldn’t be hit as Jyn barged into the room.

Bodhi’s hands were trembling at this point. “J-J-Jyn, could you—”

“Whatever it is, no!” she shouted. “I have to disembowel your roommate first. Hold on just a minute, Bodhi.” She had yet to notice the panic building in Bodhi’s eyes, but Cassian had caught on already, and he put up a hand to stop Jyn before she could pummel him.

Jyn didn’t seem to believe that his insolence was really happening. Cassian made eye contact with her, shook his head firmly, and then turned back to his roommate. “Bodhi. Are you alright?”

“Ah—yeah. I’m. I’m fine.”

Upon hearing his stretched-thin voice, Jyn turned, too, and Cassian continued. “Bodhi, you didn’t do anything. Jyn isn’t going to kill you. Only me.”

“I know that. I’m not stupid.”

Jyn rolled her eyes and muttered an admission to Bodhi. “I wasn’t planning on killing him, either.”

“I’m not—you guys—I can—I can—” Bodhi cut off with a groan, fighting to put words together, as his throat grew hoarse with frustration.

This time, Jyn and Cassian advanced on him together. By now, most of the fire in their eyes was gone. “I’m sorry, Bodhi,” Jyn opened, her voice far softer than it had been moments before. “I was messing with Cassian. I’m just irritated with him. It was rude of me not to think about you before I tore into him in the middle of your dorm.”

Cassian still looked afraid to be too close to Jyn, but he reached out a hand to run it up and down Bodhi’s arm, and Bodhi had to fight to keep from leaning into it. “Thanks,” breathed Bodhi. “I—I forget that you guys… get it. I was just worried you were gonna yell at me.”

“We’re your best friends, Bodhi.” Cassian’s face was suffused with warmth when Bodhi finally looked up at him. “We try our hardest.”

_ Best friends. _ Bodhi managed a tiny smile, and suddenly Cassian hugged him, throwing him off-balance again. Jyn joined them. After a long moment of feeling too confused for his own good, Bodhi finally weaseled away from the two, and they took their argument back into the living area, leaving Bodhi to listen from the relative safety of his and Cassian’s room.

“If you’re gonna ‘borrow’ my stuff without asking, could you take a less expensive item? Maybe one that doesn’t have years’ worth of hard-earned patches on it? Not to mention my name! You know there’s probably some thirsty freshman boy across campus drooling on it—”

“I didn’t lose it, Jyn! It’s in my room somewhere, or else I put it back and you just didn’t see it. I would never let the nasty freshmen get to your letterman jacket. Because then I wouldn’t want to wear it, and then I would be cold.”

“Get your own fucking jacket, asshole!”

“I have one, but it’s too big!”

Bodhi looked down at his hands, drowning in the sleeves of the jacket he’d plucked off his bed. He hadn’t looked at what it was, only assumed it was Cassian’s. A flush ran across his face as he thought of “borrowing” Cassian’s clothes. Forget about Jyn. She’d just kill him, whereas Cassian… well, he would’ve noticed by now if he were wrapped up in some Cassian-scented piece of fabric. And besides, this jacket had the sort of frayed sleeves characteristic of one fidgety Jyn Erso.

“Um. Jyn.”

She didn’t hear him. “Don’t pin this on Kaeden. Teammates have  _ integrity,  _ asshole.”   


“Jyn. Cassian.” Bodhi did his best to speak up, despite the thin timbre of his voice, which always seemed to render him silent to the people around him. “I think—I think I found it.”

Just as he finished speaking, Jyn turned, and her eyes narrowed. He could practically see her mentally slapping herself across the face as everything fell into place. Bodhi did a slow turn, face heating as he prayed that Jyn wouldn’t murder him in Cassian’s place, to reveal the back of the jacket, the letters ERSO perfectly embroidered across the shoulders. Cassian made an odd sort of squeak. Before Bodhi could turn back to them, Jyn was already tugging the jacket off his back. Bare-chested and suddenly feeling absurdly self-conscious, Bodhi hunched over himself and started to back toward his room.

“See?” Cassian muttered, voice half an octave lower than before. “I just misplaced it. And because Bodhi loves you, he didn’t sell it to drooling freshmen.”

“Bodhi’s a good person,” snaps Jyn, examining the sleeves of her letterman jacket for damage. “Unlike his roommate. Thank you for  _ rescuing _ my most prized possession, Bodhi. I love you too.”

Still creeping toward his door, Bodhi offered her a nervous grin. “N-no problem. Jyn.”

The look that Cassian and Jyn exchanged then didn’t make sense to Bodhi, but he could tell that they were about to break into a fresh battle for dominance, so he escaped into his and Cassian’s room and shut the door as gently as he could.  _ “Fuck,”  _ he breathed into the renewed silence, staring toward the open window. “Oh, those two are going to end me.”

Sick of feeling far too naked, even in the warm September breeze, Bodhi dug a sweater of his own out of his closet and pulled it over his head. No ratty sleeves, no faint smell of Jyn’s cloying sweat. He focused on the familiarity, trying to drown out Jyn and Cassian’s voices, closing his eyes as tightly as he could and whispering to himself  _ “calm down, don’t think, don’t think about it.” _

Distantly, he heard the door to the suite open, and Ahsoka’s insistent voice reached his ears. It was a relief to hear signs of life outside their trio. Of course Bodhi loved them—he wouldn’t live with them otherwise, much less spend most of his waking hours in their company. But that was his problem, too. He forced himself to look away from the wall on Cassian’s side of the room, peppered with old, printed-out Snapchats of their friends. Plenty of Kay, plus Baze and Chirrut in the background, then later the foreground as they grew closer with the evasive grad students. The Skywalker twins, Han Solo, even a few blessed shots of Cassian posing with various professors (Dr. Organa’s smile shining brighter than the rest, as ever). Of course, the majority of the pictures involved Jyn and Bodhi, but the one that he always lingered on, the one that made his stomach flutter when he remembered the moment, was just him and Cassian. 

Bodhi’s hair was loose around his face for once, sparkling with mid-June sun, and Cassian’s had grown long, too. His smile was the worst part. Bodhi had never seen such a childish, joyful,  _ brilliant  _ look on Cassian’s face, before or after the photo was taken. Their cheeks were smushed together, Bodhi looking anxious but elated, and Cassian’s hand holding the far side of Bodhi’s face with gentle fingers curled into the wisps of Bodhi’s hair. Ironically, Bodhi can’t remember much of that day. He does remember, though, being hesitant to get so close to Cassian, who refused to hold his arm out for a proper selfie, and squirming helplessly until Cassian grabbed him by the hair and pinned their cheeks together, and even now, in the photo, Bodhi could see the moment his breath abandoned him.

_ You are in love with your roommate. So, so in love with your roommate. Rule number one of college: don’t date someone on your floor. You know who’s on your floor? Your fucking roommate. And that’s not even to mention your suitemate, who’s outside fighting said roommate, who’s just as gorgeous and bright and fucking devastating, and you couldn’t have picked a worse set of humans to fall for. _ Bodhi couldn’t stop the rush of thoughts, followed by a trembling wave of self-hatred that pushed him down onto his bed. If Cassian knew, if Jyn knew, how he talked to himself in his head, they’d be appalled.  _ Probably mad at you, even. They’d probably leave you. _ He shook his head, ground the heels of his palms into his eyes, and breathed in as much air as he could get.

New thoughts. He needed new thoughts.

_ You are in love with your roommate. He is fantastic, he treats you well, and sometimes it seems like he’s interested in you, too. And you have a flexible living situation that would allow you to stay safe should something go wrong. _

Better. Bodhi almost laughed at the tone his mind took on, like a therapist but dripping with equal parts sarcasm and softness. He forced himself on.  _ Jyn loves you, she said so just a minute ago. She didn’t kill you for accidentally stealing her jacket. They’re both wonderful people. They both treat you well. And if they heard the self-talk you deal with, they’d do what they could to help. _

As usual, the ache in Bodhi’s chest didn’t change, but the air around him felt clearer, like the world was coming back into reality. He never really felt reasonable, per se, but he could feel strong when he took care of himself in these situations. Besides, it wasn’t like he could invite Jyn and Cassian in and ask them to rationalize his misery. Not when it focused so sharply on them.

The door opened with a start, and Cassian called out to him. “Hey, come join us—wait, are you okay? Bodhi?”

Bodhi cleared his throat. “Yeah. Just—got anxious for a minute. I took care of it, though.”

“Are you sure?” Cassian took a few steps forward, but something in Bodhi’s face surprised him, and his mouth betrayed a tiny smile. “You look shaky. But I trust you. Let me know if you need something, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” Bodhi murmured, standing and leaving the room at Cassian’s side.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to notice Jyn yelling at you. You are getting much better at handling these things.”

A shy grin crossed Bodhi’s face at that. “I’m learning.” Then Cassian threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling their faces together, cheek to cheek. Like the photo.

"You are amazing, that's what."


	2. environment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian chuckled. Bodhi focused on not dying then and there. This was going to be a long class.

Physics majors weren’t required to take classes in biology, only strongly encouraged, just to see what their less-pure scientific counterparts were up to. Or something like that. (Bodhi’s advisor was quite the character.) That’s how he found himself in 8 AM Microbiology, sandwiched between Leia Organa and Han Solo.

All of these factors made for three absolutely hellish mornings every week.

He had forgotten upon getting up that they would be doing a lab that day, so Bodhi was roused from half-sleep at his table to collect a plethora of test tubes, all containing tiny amounts of identically clear liquid. That had to be the most frustrating part of microbiology—everything looked the same, at least until it was under a microscope. While Leia measured out doses of deionized water to the microliter, Han blew up and then deflated the same rubber glove over and over again, trying to convince the finicky material to flip Leia its middle finger. She ignored him with practiced serenity. Bodhi whispered a prayer to no one,  _ please, let me stay half-asleep and not have to tear these two apart. _

“How many centrifuge tubes did you get, Bodhi?” asked Leia, voice curt as usual.

“Uh, five. I think?”

Leia nodded. “Good. This table’s almost out of pipet tips, if you would take care of that, please.”

She was still studying the tubes in front of her with calm satisfaction, so Bodhi figured he’d get another few minutes of peace. The pipet tips were kept in a cabinet across the room, color-coded and high enough that he had some trouble getting to the top row. A rack of 1000s, two of 20s, and—Bodhi cursed under his breath as he struggled to reach the smallest tips. He only vaguely registered the lab quieting behind him.

Just as he managed to get his hands on the last rack, something shattered. A door slammed. Han Solo, out of Bodhi’s sight but voice unmistakeable, said  _ “Fuck.” _

And all hell broke loose.

Bodhi’s initial response to his shouting classmates was one of panic, but remarkably, it eased as he saw Han’s face. He couldn’t help but laugh. Professor Draven was making a beeline for Han, who looked like he’d given up on life altogether, shards of glass scattered around his feet and hands limp at his sides. Draven didn’t even lecture him, just pointed to the door in complete silence and glared until Han left the room after Leia. Then he turned to Bodhi. “Rook,” he called, “I’m sorry you had to be in the middle of those two, but would you please clean up Han’s mess?”

Nervous once again, Bodhi nodded. It was only a single beaker, after all, and it appeared to have been empty. As he grabbed a dustpan and started to sweep up the shards, he heard Leia’s piercing voice from the hallway, occasionally interjected with Han’s softer grumbles. Half the class was watching them through the window. Bodhi glanced across the hall and saw students pressed against the windows of that classroom, too, and he couldn’t help but snicker at his obnoxious friends.

He didn’t hang out with the Skywalkers all the time—Luke was cute but clueless, and Leia honestly scared the shit out of him—but he’d sat through his fair share of Han and Leia’s spats. This didn’t seem to be any different. Bodhi decided to focus on cleaning up after them and subsequently avoiding Draven’s wrath, even though the man looked surprisingly entertained as the majority of his class stared at the mortal enemies/best friends/definitely-not-lovers in silence. He wasn’t even harassing Bodhi about the potential dangers of sloppy glassware cleanup.

Bodhi ended up doing the rest of the lab on his own, more or less, but DNA extraction wasn’t as complicated as he had worried. Leia tried to be helpful, once she finally stormed back into the classroom, but she was mostly too busy cursing under her breath and inventing new insults for Han to do any real work. It would be more adorable if it weren’t so exhausting for Bodhi. Then again, commenting on Leia Organa’s love life was a one-way ticket to any possibly amount of bodily harm that one could imagine.

He only had one more hour of class after this, and thank Jesus fucking Christ, Cassian was in it. Even if Bodhi knew he’d only spend the entire period staring longingly into the back of his roommate’s head, at least Cassian could keep him awake. They had decided to take a creative writing class together, to get their arts requirement out of the way, and while Bodhi wasn’t particularly comfortable sharing anything in his head with most people, it was well worth it for the enthusiastic wonder on Cassian’s face every time he was forced to read something out loud. As if Bodhi’s shitty, last-minute poems contained untold secrets of the universe, and only Bodhi’s soft stuttering can unlock them.

Cassian ambushed him in the school’s cafe, causing him to order a “hot green teaAAH!” as he nearly shrieked in surprise. Clearly, Cassian thought it was hilarious, but he managed to stifle his laughter in favor of planting his hands on Bodhi’s shoulders in an attempt to soothe him.

“How were Princess and Scoundrel today?” he murmurs.

Bodhi snorts. “I didn’t pay that much attention to their squabbling, since I had to clean up after them.”

“Those fuckers.” Cassian’s smirk is so soft, somehow, and Bodhi would never have believed upon meeting Cassian that he could look that warm. Particularly while he was cursing out their friends. “That means you had to do all the work, too?”

“It kept me awake.”

His roommate chuckled, reaching over the counter to take his coffee from the barista and smelling it. “That’s supposed to be my job.” The words made Bodhi shiver, and he tried to hide it by hunching down into his hoodie and blowing on his tea to cool it. Cassian nudged him along with an elbow. They walked the rest of the way across campus without speaking, though Cassian’s shoulder brushed against his a few times.

Despite stopping for warm beverages, they were among the first people in class, and Cassian herded Bodhi into the most comfortable pair of overstuffed armchairs in the room. Bodhi didn’t know how other tiny colleges arranged their English classrooms, but this awkward lounge where their professor insisted on holding class felt so much more like the sitting room of a castle. “Do you think she’ll have us read out loud today?” Cassian questioned, leaning toward Bodhi as he unpacked is laptop.

“I seriously hope not,” Bodhi replied, as he did every day in this class.

“Oh, nonsense.” Cassian’s voice was muffled behind the chair as he reached around in search of a safe spot on the floor for his coffee. “I don’t trust Antilles not to knock this over. Will you put it on that table?”

With a roll of his eyes, Bodhi deposited Cassian’s coffee cup next to his own on the side table. “You really want to leave your precious coffee under my jurisdiction again?”

“It excites me. Anyway, what did you write for the prompt? I assume that’s what you were doing with your phone flashlight around one in the morning.”

Bodhi reddened. He had forgotten by then what he’d written the night before, after remembering mid-tooth-brushing that he had to have some sort of Piece prepared for class the next day. He wouldn’t call it a Piece, per se, but he wouldn’t say that about anything he wrote. He tried to use words more like “slop” and “misery” and “Professor Mothma said I had to.” More privately, “why the fuck did I let Cassian talk me into this.” He had been too tired the night before to think of anything but his roommate’s arrhythmic snoring, which had somehow transferred to, well, rambling. Thankfully, it was as vague as ever. Bodhi had no idea whether Cassian really hadn’t caught on to his late-night waxings about how beautiful his roommate’s face was, or if he was fully aware and just laughing at him behind his back. Cassian repeated his name, snapping him out of his nervous trance. “Yeah, uh, just the usual. Vague bullshit. Y’know.”

“Your vague bullshit is wonderful. You sell yourself short.”

Bodhi snorted and was about to retaliate when Professor Mothma glided into the room and shut the glass doors behind herself. “Good morning, everyone!” she began, smiling benevolently as ever. “You all look like you’ve slept  _ so  _ well.”

Cassian chuckled. Bodhi focused on not dying then and there. This was going to be a long class.

At first they just  _ talked  _ about the writing, as Mon (who insisted on being called by her first name) usually tried to do. No one was actually talking. Bodhi shoved the messy sheet of paper with his Piece between two pages of his notebook, in the hopes that no one would see it and he could read it so fast that they wouldn’t be able to process his ridiculous pining. Of course, Cassian would still probably try to read over his shoulder and breathe down his neck in uncomfortable silence. There seemed to be no way out at this rate.

“I know I said we were going to share in a big group today,” Mon intoned at last, “but you all seem a little drowsy, so why don’t we just trade in pairs? You don’t have to read out loud. Bodhi.” He startled, and a few classmates chuckled at him.  _ Rude. _ “I try to mix it up so we can do what everyone likes.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bodhi saw Wedge’s lips form the words  _ that’s what she said,  _ and he made a mental note to punch him later.

Mon released them to wreak havoc on each other’s work, and before Bodhi could escape, Cassian was tugging at his arm and plopping a barely-readable mass of paper into his lap. Well, this was the end. He tried to act calm as he handed his paper over to Cassian, followed by Cassian’s coffee, then retrieved the coffee, then picked up his own tea, then took a sip of the wrong drink and nearly spat hot coffee all over him roommate. Cassian was already reading.

With a dejected sigh, Bodhi looked down and started trying to decode Cassian’s terrible handwriting. He made it through half a paragraph about red leaves on maple trees—awfully sappy for him—before Cassian poked him in the side and muttered, “Coffee.”

Bodhi passed the cup over, trying not to grumble. “I think it’d be easier to read this if you just wrote in Morse code,” he responded.

“Morse code is outdated and tedious.”

“So is deciphering this, asshole.” Bodhi took the coffee back from a giggling Cassian (again), his heart racing all the while. “You actually do assignments before the middle of the night. You could type them.”

Cassian snorted. “I like to challenge you.”

“I really don’t need that,” Bodhi mumbled as he gave up the argument in the face of Mon’s stern glare. She was an exceptionally kind person, but could be intimidating when she thought her students were being too loud. After a few more minutes of struggling and then giving up on Cassian’s alien cipher, she stopped them all and instructed them to talk in pairs about the work.  _ Oh, even better. _ Maybe Cassian hadn’t finished it. Despite barely being able to remember writing the night before, Bodhi was pretty sure that it ended along the lines of “I’m so in love with him I don’t know what the fuck to do.” At least he never specified anything that could pick Cassian out from the rest of this admittedly tiny school.

He was startled into reality when Cassian cleared his throat. “First of all, coffee.” He grunted in appreciation when Bodhi complied. “Now. You are  _ amazing _ at this and I don’t understand why you’re trying to spend all your time suffering through physics.”

“I wrote that. With my phone flashlight. At one AM. What the fuck are you talking about.”

“That’s the best kind of writing and we all know it.” Mon, who was clearly eavesdropping her way around the classroom, smiled at him. “I know you well enough to know that you are a very emotional and sensitive person, but anyone who read things like this would feel as if they lived in your head. You show your  _ feelings _ so well. It’s lovely. Don’t look at me like that, Bodhi. I would happily read anything you wrote, if it were at all like this.”

That would be a terrible idea, and Bodhi deflected it as fast as possible. “I didn’t expect you to be writing about changing seasons and gorgeous leaves. Isn’t that a bit soppy for you?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“We’re supposed to give each other feedback, not torment each other!”

Cassian rolled his eyes, and Bodhi fought the urge to step on his foot. Lightly, of course, but he still would. “I know it’s not my place to pester you—fuck, I’m your  _ roommate, _ obviously it is my place. Who the hell are you up writing about in the wee hours of the morning, hm? Am I acquainted with this beautiful mystery man?”

That, exactly, was when Bodhi should have dropped dead.  _ You set yourself up for this, dumbass. Now you get to climb out of the grave you dug yourself.  _ “Uh. It’s. Not what you… I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I’m messing with you, Bodhi.” Cassian’s eyes were dancing, but somewhere in the deep, organic brown there was an unexpected sharpness, too. Bodhi’s stomach rolled. “I won’t make you talk about it when you clearly don’t want to.”

“But… you’ll definitely have a little conference with Jyn later to talk it over, won’t you.”

Cassian cackled. “Of course.”

They talked about Cassian’s writing for a bit longer, though that mostly consisted of Cassian reading what Bodhi couldn’t make out, and then blushing at the utter soppiness of it. It made Bodhi feel exponentially better to see the embarrassment etched into the lines by Cassian’s eyes. It could level the playing field, almost. As long as Cassian didn’t realize why Bodhi was paying such close attention to every line on his (lovely) face.

“For Monday,” Mon called, gathering herself in the center of the room. “Let’s write some observations! Just sit where you normally would to do homework and describe things. Whatever you see. Come prepared to make something bigger out of them!”

Bodhi groaned, fully aware that this would mean sitting in a pile of blankets on his bed and detailing every inch of Cassian’s being. He could, of course,  _ not  _ do that. He could go to the library, stare listlessly at a computer, or just sit in the common room of their suite and snark about Ahsoka and Kaeden schmoozing on the couch. But he knew that none of those were going to happen—he’d forget, or he’d just decide to torment himself for fun, and it would be Cassian.

Something in the cryptic smirk on Cassian’s face told him that they might as well end up writing about observing each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey friends so I know I said I'd be writing fast to Deal with Emotions but unfortunately said Emotions are unpredictable and just decided to sock me in the face and leave me incapacitated for half the weekend. anyway, I got halfway through describing their writing class before I realized that I've made a commitment to only use Star Wars characters and not my own English professor. (sorry fran, ily.)
> 
> I'm also not sure what to make everyone's majors/classes—I'm such a Biology Major that nothing else sounds like any fun to me, and I have no idea what their canon roles would transfer to as studies. Cassian will probably be polisci. Other than that, I'm open to suggestions.
> 
> I was really surprised and flattered by all the feedback on the first chapter of this!! i needed the validation. thank you all. be prepared for more of my totally-not-writing-my-own-problems-into-my-favorite-characters crap in the future.
> 
> oh, yeah, p.s. idk if I mentioned this before, but I'm in an epidemiology class right now and it's everything I've ever wished for so please excuse the weird epidemiology-themed chapter titles, i know they're. ridiculous. i'm in Monkey Class (tm) too, so it could be worse.


	3. agent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, are you up for petty gossip?

Ahsoka was lying on the floor of the suite when Bodhi got back from the gym, running her fingers over the carpet and scrunching her face up in irritation. “We need to vacuum,” she groaned. “Oh, yeah. I already told Cassian, but, uh, track is doing golf tonight.”

Bodhi blinked. “What?”

“Golf. Where you go to everyone’s rooms and get a drink. We’re making flaming Fireball shots. It’s like a bar crawl for bored college sports teams.”

“Sounds… exciting.” So he’d be out tonight or he’d be locked in his room. Cool. He loved Jyn and enjoyed Kaeden and Ahsoka, but the track and field team as a whole was closer to terrifying. Fireball didn’t sound too bad, though. If he could handle the stern looks from Cassian when they both knew that he shouldn’t be drinking with his medication.

Heaving a massive yawn, Ahsoka sat up and then grimaced at the dust all over her back. “It’s just the women’s team. Do you know if we even have a vacuum?”

“It’s out in the hall.”

Ahsoka fetched the vacuum, which was labeled not with their building name or floor, but only “THE SUCC.” No one could master outdated, unfunny memes like college sophomores. As she plugged it in and began to attack the thinly-carpeted concrete floor, Bodhi fled to his room and started running through escape plans in his head, hardly registering Cassian semi-conscious and draped over his laptop. Bodhi dropped his backpack beside his bed, pulled out his own computer, and then dove face-first into the pile of pillows waiting so lovingly for his return.

“Hmph wrinrgf geabrrhm?” grunted Cassian.

“English, please.”

Cassian raised his head and rubbed his eyes. “That  _ was _ English. I asked how the gym was.”

“Endless suffering, torment, I barely survived, et cetera.”

His roommate’s smirk could fell armies, Bodhi was fairly sure, and his voice wasn’t much better. “Your body thanks you. What do you say we go get a reward? From the bakery?”

“I just laid down…” Bodhi scowled into the pillow, the word  _ reward _ floating around in his head like a dark cloud of innuendo. “Give me, like, ten minutes to sulk?”

Cassian just laughed and changed the subject. “Jyn wants to bet on your mystery man.”

“You just earned another ten minutes of sulking,” grumbled Bodhi, trying to ignore the blood rushing to his cheeks.

“She wouldn’t tell me her guess, though. She swears she knows who it is but expected me to bet without knowing who I was betting on.”

Knowing Jyn, devilish and perceptive as she was, she probably knew exactly who Bodhi had been referring to. She could always read Bodhi as if his feelings were painted in fifty-foot letters, but at the same time, she was oblivious when it came to Cassian. Though, to be fair, Cassian was probably a spy in another life, and he knew how to fake just about anything.

“Anyway.” Cassian chuckled to himself, which Bodhi found suspicious. “I hope you’re not planning to partake of the Fireball tonight.”

Bodhi rolled his eyes. “I’m planning to go nowhere near the drunk women’s track team.”

“That makes it sound like their sport is Drunk Track. That would end badly for Jyn.” They both broke into laughter, imagining Jyn—who was already breaking a few laws of physics as both the shortest and fastest hurdler on the team—trying to run while drunk. “I’m sure Ahsoka’s already covered up a few javelin murders in her day.”

“I doubt she’d cover it up.” Despite his whining muscles, Bodhi sat up again and reached down to get his keys out of his backpack. “Bakery, then? Sulking is boring.”

Cassian smiled, brilliant as ever. “Let’s go.”

Just leaving the suite was always a source of anxiety for Bodhi. As soon as Cassian shut the door behind them, anything could jump out of the grimy corners of the dorm hallways, from nightmarish monsters to taunting classmates. Before anything could actually attack him, Bodhi’s internal monologue started up.  _ Why are you like this? No one here is going to fuck with you. You live with Jyn Erso. Everyone at this school is too scared— _

“Breathing, Bodhi?”

He snapped out of his self-deprecation to glance at Cassian. “Yeah. Of course.”

Cassian brushed his fingers over Bodhi’s shoulder, just solid enough to keep him from shivering. “Whatever you’re worried about, I won’t let it get to you.” As usual, Bodhi didn’t understand why his friends were willing to put up with his melodrama. “Speaking of which—well, are you up for petty gossip?”

“Uh, sure. I think.”

“Krennic switched into my political theory class.”

Bodhi cringed. “Isn’t that the one you talked Kay into taking?”

“Yeah.” Cassian returned his hand to Bodhi’s shoulder, squeezing it more firmly this time. “You really should have seen Kay ripping him a new one. It was hilarious.”

“And he—he hasn’t started harassing you, has he?” All of a sudden, Bodhi’s heart was racing, more with anger than fear for once. Krennic was several years older than most of his friends, having transferred ineffectually between schools until he ended up as Bodhi’s freshman roommate. Because apparently the school’s roommate matching system relied more on shared music taste and quiet hours than keeping kids with chronic anxiety away from abusive masterminds. “I know I said I’d never speak to the douchebag again, but I—I’d punch him, probably. I don’t have to talk to him to do that.”

Cassian frowned and stopped walking, turning to look Bodhi in the eyes. “You know he wouldn’t dare. I’m still keeping Jyn from murdering him to this day.”

“Th-that’s fair. I guess.”

“Besides, he was totally busy being  _ destroyed _ by Kay. That will quickly become my new favorite class if I get to watch a fascist abuser being dragged through the flames three times a week.” There was the smirk again. Cassian continued to walk, his arm slipping across Bodhi’s shoulders with ease. “Between that and your romantic waxing—”

“Cassian!” Bodhi’s voice broke like a pubescent boy’s, and he stared into the wall as they descended the stairs as if he could glare hard enough for it to bounce back at himself. “I don’t  _ have  _ to write gushy shit, you know. You’ve told me it’s your favorite part of the class.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Cassian held the door open, leaving far too little space for Bodhi to squeeze past him. “It is! And that’s nonsense. You’d have to spend time coming up with ideas to do that. Your midnight ramblings bring out your true priorities.”

_ “Ugh.  _ Forget about The Asshole, I’m gonna punch you first!”

Cassian had the nerve to giggle. “You know it’s true!”

Once they stepped off campus, Bodhi returned to brooding, since he knew that he’d only dig himself deeper into Cassian’s bullshit if he kept talking. Again, he wondered what possessed him to ramble on paper about his roommate’s unreal beauty in the middle of the night, rather than talking about, say, being awake in the middle of the night doing last-minute homework. It was just that Cassian, for whatever reason, was really good at convincing people to do things that they would never do otherwise, usually involving course schedules. So when he thought of creative writing, he thought of Cassian’s voice lilting from across the hallway,  _ “Bodhi, if you didn’t get the engineering course, take writing with me!” _ Last year, Bodhi hadn’t even realized what had drawn him to Cassian with so much force. Well, when most of his social life had involved Krennic, Cassian had been a beacon of kindness and, later, an escape route. It wasn’t until well after they’d moved in together than Bodhi was hit with the Feelings. Or the realization thereof. He couldn’t even vent for a grade, because Cassian would be there, inhaling every word on the page like Bodhi was his only source of oxygen.

They rounded the corner toward the bakery, and suddenly Cassian was gripping Bodhi’s hand and dragging him into a tiny alcove between two buildings. “What—you— _ Cassian!”  _ hissed Bodhi, as he found himself far too close to his roommate with no warning.

“Sorry—don’t look yet, take a few seconds, but you’ll understand. Just peek at them. Ready… now!”

Bodhi jerked his head out from the alcove—crevice, maybe—and stared in the direction of the bakery. At first, he saw nothing, but then through the window, he caught sight of a familiar, irritated face. “Leia?” he muttered, already starting to turn back to Cassian. Right before he could duck out of sight, however, he looked above Leia’s head and saw—

“And Han.” Cassian’s eyes were glowing in the shadows. “Leia Organa and Han Solo, alone  _ together  _ at fucking Hoth Bakery. Should I text Ahsoka? I feel like someone in the newspaper might pay me for this.”

“Um. I think Han saw me.”

Phone halfway to his face, Cassian froze.  _ “Fuck.” _

Bodhi grimaced, forcing himself to look away from Cassian’s dread-stricken face. “We should run, right?”

“No, we might as well go on in. They had to know they’d be seen here. At least we’re friends.”

“Or… we could leave, before Leia makes a rug out of our hides.”

Unfortunately, that only made Cassian laugh. “Bail loves me. She may be on the rebellious side, but she wouldn’t murder her dad’s favorite student. Not in public, at least.”

Before Bodhi could beg for mercy, Cassian was pulling him back into the sunlight and toward the bakery again, where Leia’s face was morphing as she realized who was making a beeline for herself and Han. Bodhi almost laughed, but then they were bursting through the door and coming face-to-face with the pair, and Bodhi’s life flashed before his eyes. Leia had never looked so dead, he mused, hoping that Cassian would just shut his mouth and buy him a fucking pastry instead of stirring up trouble, as he was wont to do.

“What do we have here?” piped Cassian, because  _ of course. _

Leia crossed her arms and glared up at him with an absurdly regal pout that only she could manage. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Andor.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that. I’m just  _ curious.” _

“There’s nothing going on here. Bodhi, tell him.” Han gave Bodhi a sharp stare, as if Bodhi would dare to challenge him in the first place. When Bodhi shook his head, not willing to incriminate himself on either side, Han sighed. “Draven said we had to ‘work out our differences’ outside of class. That’s all.”

The look on Han’s face clearly stated that he wished it were more. “That should make class much easier. Good to know,” Bodhi mumbled. “Now, Cassian, can we—”

“What about you two, hm?” cut in Leia. “You on a date?”

Cassian snorted, clearly unimpressed with Leia’s attempts at deflection, while Bodhi stared at the ceiling and hoped that no one noticed how flustered he was becoming. “We’re roommates. Is it not normal for roommates to hang out together? Seriously?”

Thankfully, Leia gave up at that. “Fucking fine. I’m watching you, Cassian. I know my dad loves you, but I could probably sic him on Jyn if you’re not careful.”

“Oh, sure. I wasn’t planning on fucking with you, I swear! I think poor Bodhi would have a heart attack if I tried.” Cassian threw his arm across Bodhi’s shoulders again, and Bodhi avoided Leia’s pointed gaze. “Now, I see a scone up there that needs to be inside my body presently. We’ll talk with you two later.”

Finally, they walked away. Bodhi’s heart was racing, though it was probably more due to Cassian still holding onto his shoulders than fear of death by Leia. Once he caught sight of the  _ unbelievable _ cinnamon rolls behind the glass of the pastry case, dripping with sugary goop and dense cream cheese icing, he forgot everything else. Maybe, in the future, he could just write about cinnamon-based desert foods instead of Cassian’s pretty face.

“I already know you want one of those monstrosities,” Cassian said, interrupting his thoughts. “Would you like a tea too? It’s all on me. Don’t argue.”

Bodhi rolled his eyes and looked up at the cashier. “Can I get a cinnamon roll—with icing—and a hot gunpowder tea, please?”

“Ooh, gunpowder, sounds interesting,” purred Cassian. “I’d like a cinnamon chip scone and a Mexican hot chocolate. Actually, make that two scones. One to go. Thank you!” He beamed at the cashier, whose eyes widened in the face of Cassian’s outrageous charm. “Let’s see if these white people can make half-decent chocolate,” he muttered into Bodhi’s ear.

After they paid and picked up their pastries (including a scone for Jyn, who Cassian claimed would smell the bakery on their breath), Cassian found a table by the window and pulled Bodhi’s chair out with a flourish. “Are you trying to prove your gentility to me or what?” Bodhi teased, waving Cassian’s hands away from the back of his chair. “If you are, I’m not impressed.”

“I just bought you food! Don’t turn on me now!”

Their drinks were out a moment later, and Bodhi tried not to stare too intensely as Cassian examined his hot chocolate. He had a special expression reserved exclusively for White People Mexican Food, a sort of cautious superiority that could turn to begrudging fondness or disgust, and Bodhi was rarely privy to these occasions. After a moment of pondering, Cassian took a tiny sip, and his eyes lit up. Bodhi couldn’t help but laugh.

“Approved?” he asked, reaching over to wipe a dribble of chocolate off the side of the cup and lick it off his finger.

Cassian grinned. “This is fucking good.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bodhi saw Leia and Han leave the bakery, standing suspiciously close to one another. He didn’t say anything. Cassian would probably get nosy again, and besides, Bodhi had no desire to come any closer to Leia’s bad side than he already was. Instead, he cut a chunk out of his resplendent cinnamon roll and stuffed it in his mouth. The face that Cassian made when he groaned around the sticky-doughy ooze was… odd.  _ Am I being gross?  _ he wondered, but then Cassian shifted awkwardly in his chair and stared down into his scone.

“Wh-what, I can’t appreciate the food you bought me?” Bodhi stammered.  _ Fuck, you shouldn’t have said anything. _

“You made it sound like the cinnamon roll was sucking your dick.”

Bodhi nearly choked. “S-sorry! You know how I feel about these—”

“I’m teasing you,” reassured Cassian, though there was still a strange tension in his eyes when he looked up.

They finished their drinks and pastries and left the bakery without saying much more, too busy cramming food into their mouths. Cassian’s hand floated to the small of Bodhi’s back for just a moment as he opened the door. As they headed back toward the dorms, a car sped past them, honking furiously, and Bodhi jumped half a foot in the air. He was half-ready to run for it when Jyn’s cackling head poked out of the car’s window.

_ “Fuck,  _ she scared me,” Bodhi grumped. “God  _ damnit, _ why am I like this…”

Cassian threw an arm around Bodhi’s shoulders  _ (again)  _ and shook his head. “Ahsoka was driving. And honking. She doesn’t know you quite as well as we do. Plus, they’re probably both high on convincing the liquor store they’re of age. You know how excited that makes Jyn.”

Bodhi snorted. “Happy four o’clock. It’s whiskey time for our suitemates.”

“Hey, seriously,” Cassian said, voice suddenly soft. “I know you don’t want to hang around those three and all their friends while they’re wasted. I’ll help you barricade the door if you want. Or I’ll happily take you out to somewhere safe until they leave.”

It took a few seconds of silence for Bodhi to realize that he had stopped walking. “Uh—well—really?”

“Of course. You’re not supposed to be drinking, and I know how uncomfortable you are when everyone else you  _ is _ drunk.” Cassian’s eyes were impossibly warm. “You don’t have to worry about it now. Besides, I think they’re one of the last holes in the game. Jyn might want an escape, too.”

Drunk Jyn was… not ideal, but she could be hilarious at the same time. “Yeah. Okay. As long as you’re fine with missing the party.”

Cassian scoffed as he started to lead Bodhi along the street once again. “They don’t want me there. They’re calling it a girls’ night. Even if I were invited, I’d rather hang out with you.”

This time, Bodhi couldn’t even begin to hide his blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> raise ur hand if uve ever gotten a blowjob from a cinnamon roll
> 
> i am a very Dialogue Driven Writer, by which i mean i have never done a """plot""" before. not sure that's a real thing. (im so sorry.) and the ages of all the different characters are kinda awkward, but I wanted to make krennic a Villain Character and i have some great roommate horror stories so there we have it.
> 
> also the last two chapters were a little short for my liking, so this one's on the longer side. I'd planned to get all the way through Jyn + Fireball = Disaster, but apparently my hands write and by brain is just in charge of drinking tea and painting my nails. i, like bodhi, have no sense of priorities.
> 
> once again, I'm projecting myself the Heck onto bodhi—my meds make me such a lightweight that it's dangerous for me to drink, so I can't exactly master the quintessential College Party Scene. i rly like fireball tho. #worthpassingoutfor
> 
> and i really want to get to the next section and get the Things a'Movin with my babies and their romance, so an update may be up soon. I'm having some health issues atm because my body doesn't believe in blood pressure, but if I'm stuck in bed I may as well write, eh? otherwise I'm just scouring ao3 with glazed eyes waiting for my body to start working again. peace <3 and sorry this a/n is a million Fucking miles long also AN is my initials so it took me years to figure out that the authors weren't addressing me specifically
> 
> (comments&kudos fill me w love and joy and maybe slightly more blood!!)


	4. vector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to doubt that you own more than one outfit. Unless you count eyeliners in 'black' and 'smoking gunmetal.'

“We should push the beds together. Like a slumber party.”

Bodhi isn’t sure that he’s ever heard a worse idea than that one, but he can’t bring himself to protest, not when Cassian is so excited about shutting themselves in their room to eavesdrop on the track team’s gossip and, later, fuck with their drunk suitemates. “I-I thought you just wanted to go out?” he finally stuttered, trying to dodge the proposition of a  _ slumber party  _ with Cassian.

Cassian pouted. “I thought there was a show tonight—the improv group—but it ended last week. And if we go to the café, we have to come back, since it closes at ten, and that will mean fighting through this crowd when they’ve just started partying, and you know they’ll try and make us drink.”

“That’s. Well. Good point, I guess. But aren’t you gonna… Won’t you get bored just hanging out with me?” Bodhi’s voice was too close to a squeal for his liking.

All the same, Cassian’s eyes softened as he tilted his head. “Why would I get bored?”

“Uh—just—being stuck in your room…? With one person? Who’s going to be anxious about drunk people all night?”   


“Then I’ll make it my job to help you feel less anxious,” Cassian replied. “Easy. Not boring.”

He had already started pulling his bed out from the edge of the room before Bodhi could stammer any more protests. Once they had the mega-bed assembled, it actually looked cozy enough, though Bodhi had no intentions of letting it stay that way for the rest of the night. He was glad for the distraction when a  _ bang _ resounded from the lounge, and he and Cassian ran to see what trouble their suitemates were causing.

One of the sofas was completely upside down, its stubby legs askew, and Jyn was curled up next to it laughing so hard that she could no longer breathe. Cassian peeked into the room over Bodhi’s shoulder, making Bodhi startle as his chest pressed into Bodhi’s shoulder. Ahsoka was leaning against the doorframe of the other room, while Kaeden kicked the upturned sofa with a dejected scowl. As she saw her suitemates staring in confusion from across the room, Kaeden crossed her arms and nearly harrumphed at them. “What?” she barked.

“Is everyone alright here?” laughed Cassian.

Jyn finally uncurled and started to sit up. “I’m good. It’s good. I… the sofa attacked me.”

While Jyn swayed to her feet and approached Bodhi and Cassian, Ahsoka left the doorway to help Kaeden flip the sofa back over. Jyn’s breath didn’t smell like Fireball yet, just cheap vodka, in the perfect amount to make her obnoxious but still functionally drunk. Still, Bodhi wrinkled his nose at the stench of alcohol when she draped herself across him in an attempt to hug him and Cassian at the same time. Maybe, if it weren’t for the alcohol, he would enjoy being sandwiched between them—honestly, he did anyway, even though Cassian was starting to press uncomfortably close to his back.

“It is  _ seven,”  _ Cassian announces, at last seeming appropriately irritated by Jyn’s behavior. “You all smell like a liquor store in a tornado.”

Ahsoka finished righting the couch and smacked Kaeden’s butt in celebration, then kissed her girlfriend on the cheek as Kaeden glared at her. “Golf is hard, Cass. Ass. Kuh-ASS-ian. Ha!”

“That is. Certainly the funniest thing I have ever heard.” Cassian’s voice was nothing short of robotic. “Bodhi and I are going to have a nice,  _ substance-free  _ slumber party while you all get shit-faced. So don’t send your teammates in to bother us.”

Jyn finally let go of Bodhi, allowing him to step away from Cassian and breathe, while Ahsoka locked eyes with Bodhi and pursed her lips as if preparing to pass judgment on Bodhi’s entire life. “A slumber party? All  _ alone?  _ That sounds  _ fuuuuun,”  _ she sing-songed, waggling her eyebrows at Bodhi. Her voice turned into a sloppy, drunken stage whisper. “Ooh, they pushed the beds together! Kaeden. They’re totally gonna  _ ffffuuuuuu—” _

“Ahsoka, you’re being rude,” Jyn slurred. “Just because you two can’t keep it in your pants—”

“Please, all of you, just. Stop.” Cassian shook his head, and when Bodhi turned to look at him, he had gone bright red, all the way down his neck. Bodhi was sure that he didn’t look any better. “Can you behave yourselves, please? Bodhi, let’s go get some snacks for ourselves, and to appease these assholes, and  _ then _ we can barricade the room. Sound good?”

Bodhi gave him a jittery nod, feeling even shakier as Kaeden started making lewd (and oddly specific) hand gestures at him.

They managed to haul themselves to the drugstore and back in no more than twenty minutes, lugging a ridiculous amount of food between the two of them, most of which was to be offered as a sacrifice to their unpredictable suitemates. Once again, Cassian held the door to the building open, giving Bodhi far too little room to squeeze past him. Bodhi was sure that he wasn’t doing it on purpose—Cassian had never really understood personal space, but all the same, it felt like he was intentionally tormenting Bodhi, forcing him to come close enough to just sense the warmth of his skin but not touch.

It seemed that Jyn had taken a break from drinking so that she could pace herself for the rest of the night, so she was more helpful than expected when they got to the suite and started putting food away. Ahsoka and Kaeden were nowhere to be seen. Bodhi noted, however, that Jyn was making a point of staying well away from her bedroom door, and so he did the same.

The game wasn’t even starting until nine, and their suite was one of the latest holes, so Bodhi and Cassian would have a few hours of peace before the party started in earnest. As the evening approached eight o’clock, Kaeden let Jyn into her own bedroom so that the three of them could get ready. Surprisingly, Kaeden even looked dressed. Cassian started nosing through the various bottles of liquor left out in the kitchenette, commenting on the utter lack of quality or taste, until Bodhi asked whether he would actually cough up the money to buy them  _ nice  _ whiskey if it were his party.

“Of course not. Maybe for just you and Jyn, but that would be a moot point,” Cassian replies, shaking his head dismissively. “If you could drink, I would absolutely buy you something high-end. Instead you get Toblerone.”

Bodhi smirked, reaching into a cabinet to fish out the aforementioned chocolate bar. Having rejected the subpar alcohol, Cassian headed for the fridge instead and poured them each a glass of ginger beer. “No ice in mine,” piped Bodhi around a mouthful of chocolate.

“I know.”

They stayed in the lounge for the next hour, listening to their three friends shout nonsense and swap makeup bags from their closed room. Ahsoka knew how to dress up for these kinds of events; she emerged from Jyn and Kaeden’s room around 8:30 in a short burgundy dress with some kind of tiara-like headpiece resting in her voluminous blue hair. She brushed past Bodhi, heading for the table full of liqour, and he caught a glimpse of the brick-red eyeshadow, in contrast with her blue eyes and dark skin. Even after an hour and a half, she still reeked of Fireball.

“You know you’re not supposed to use whiskey as perfume, right?” Cassian jabbed.

She snorted, not bothering to look up at him. “And you’re not supposed to be sniffing me.”

“I don’t have to. You  _ stink.” _

“Thanks for your input, Andor, but I don’t care.” Moments later, Kaeden opened the door to the bedroom and beckoned Ahsoka with a flick of her head. Her braids were piled in a bun on top of her head, and she was clearly in need of Ahsoka’s help, as she had more bobby pins in her mouth than she knew what to do with. She was dressed mostly in green, some golden glitter dusted across her face. Behind her, Bodhi caught a glimpse of Jyn, who looked the same as ever, only with the addition of a fresh layer of eyeliner on top of her usual haphazard smudge. The trio disappeared into the room again, giggling in a way that was strangely out of character for all of them, only to reemerge a few minutes later.

Cassian eyed Jyn with a skeptical smirk while she struggled to pull her boots on. “Are those your  _ dressy _ leggings?”

“Obviously,” she huffed, still tottering around on one foot.

“I’m starting to doubt that you own more than one outfit.” Cassian had known Jyn for a year and a half—they were in the same freshman seminar—but Bodhi had known her much longer, and he couldn’t count more than three outfits off the top of his head. “Unless you count eyeliners in ‘black’ and ‘smoking gunmetal.’”

Once she finished lacing her shoes, Jyn turned to glare at Cassian. “It’s a fucking track team drinking game. No one will care.”

Bodhi heard the sound of shot glasses slamming onto the table behind him, and turned to see Ahsoka and Kaeden downing even more Fireball. “Don’t get too out of hand, Jyn, or I’ll text Galen and tell him you’re misbehaving.”

“No, you won’t.” Her voice was light, but her stony glare pinned Bodhi to the sofa in an instant. “Because if I get any suspicious messages from Papa, I’m telling him that  _ you’re  _ making Cassian and I bet on who your crush is.”

“I—you—I didn’t make you bet on anything! Nor did I tell you or ask you or even speak to you about th-that—topic!” Bodhi’s entire body felt feverish all of a sudden, but he could still hear Cassian snickering gently on the far side of the sofa. “And if you say that, then  _ I’ll  _ tell him you skipped night class on Wednesday to climb the athletic center building.”

Though he had expected a fierce rebuttal, Bodhi was surprised to see that Jyn’s eyes went wide with terror. He had won. “You wouldn’t,” she breathed, staring unblinkingly between him and Cassian.

“Then be good, and I won’t have to text him in the first place.”

She exhaled slowly and ran a hand over her bangs, as if she hadn’t already fixed them half a dozen times. “You should, actually. He misses you.”

While the girls finished nitpicking each other’s outfits and inhaling last-minute snacks, Bodhi looked down at his phone and scrolled slowly through his texts, looking for the name with the Danish flag and sciency-looking flask emojis.

 

**To:** Galen

Your daughter is blackmailing me again.

 

After another bout of pointless giggling, the partiers left at last. Cassian grumbled something about the suite reeking of alcohol and got up to head for their room, and Bodhi’s phone buzzed only seconds later.

 

**From:** Galen

You are surprised?

 

Bodhi chuckled to himself. At least Galen was fully aware of his daughter’s threatening tendencies, though Bodhi couldn’t imagine that he would’ve survived raising her alone for so many years if he didn’t know what he was in for. He heard Ahsoka’s bright laughter fade as they left the building, and despite the dozens of other rooms in the dorm, he felt suddenly and extremely alone with Cassian.

“Bodhi. Get off that foul sofa or you’ll smell like booze, too.”

Alone and trapped in a small room with him. Cassian was sprawled sideways across both beds, as if to emphasize his ridiculous slumber party idea, though he had left Bodhi’s pillows untouched. Bodhi let out a sigh of relief, since it was often hard to remember that Cassian, being the fantastic friend that he was, knew Bodhi’s boundaries better than anyone and actually bothered to respect them. Most people wouldn’t even be allowed to touch his bed, but Cassian had explicitly asked for his permission the first time they had sat together on Bodhi’s bed to watch a movie on his laptop. He’d work his way up to pillows if—he cut himself off.  _ If you’re stuck in a room with him, you should probably keep the dirty thoughts shoved away where they belong,  _ he berated himself.

“Sh-should I close the door?” asked Bodhi as he unfolded one of the fuzzy blankets on his bed and spread it out to his liking.

Cassian frowned. “We’ll hear them coming up the stairs. Might as well leave it open for now.”

In the meantime, Bodhi sat crosslegged on his bed with his laptop open on Cassian’s and scrolled aimlessly alongside his roommate. Sometimes he would start to relax, only to remember all of a sudden how close and how casual Cassian was, and thus he spent most of their few hours of peace on edge. He startled when his laptop dinged at him, only to find another text.

 

**From:** Galen

How are you doing, Bodhi? We haven’t talked since school started.

 

**To:** Galen

I know. I’m sorry about that. It’s so much better than last year, though, cass is a great roommate

 

Bodhi had a startlingly clear memory of Galen on the last day of finals, helping him move his microwave down the stairs, and then finally snapping when Krennic made one last awful comment to Bodhi. He hadn’t realized that Galen even  _ could _ shout, honestly, until he somehow screamed the awful Orson Krennic into submission. Then, years after he started to love and respect Jyn’s fearless Papa like no other adult in his life, did he finally embrace Galen as his own dad, too.

He was dragged from his thoughts by the door to the building slamming open, and a chorus of intoxicated voices floated up the stairs and toward them. Cassian’s head whipped around to lock eyes with Bodhi, and they both lunged toward the door as if their lives were at stake, slamming and then barricading it with practiced efficiency. Moments after, the track team reached their suite, and Cassian let out a breathless giggle, close enough for Bodhi to feel the air stir across his face.

Plastic cups and dirty shotglasses slammed into the table, and Cassian pressed his ear against the door, gesturing for Bodhi to do the same. “WHO WANTS TO GET FUCKED?” screamed Ahsoka. 

“ME,” Kaeden laughed back. A few other girls groaned, including—Bodhi lowered his eyebrows as he identified Barriss Offee’s voice. Even on the track team, she was a bit of an outsider, especially since she and Ahsoka came from the same high school and had some weird romantic history that they both refused to talk about. 

“Interesting to see Barriss out and partying,” he whispered to Cassian.

Something across the lounge crashed, and a few girls screamed. “She’s probably exhausted,” Cassian mused.

The girls’ voices faded into unintelligible chatter, and Cassian gave up on eavesdropping. Bodhi tried not to think too hard about the liquidy sounds coming from the table full of alcohol, since they meant more mess that he would probably have to deal with later. Jyn wouldn’t make him clean it up, but he’d have to harass her for a while to get her to get the sticky shit off the table so that he could eat on it without having to take a shower immediately afterward. He shook his head in irritation as he turned back toward Cassian, who was hanging upside down off the edge of the mega-bed.

“So when do we get to torment them?” asked Bodhi.

Cassian’s eyes opened. “We should wait until they’re  _ really _ wrecked. I usually trust Ahsoka to keep people from getting sloppy, so hopefully no one will puke on us.”

“That’s. Uh. Good.” Bodhi fell back onto his bed, nearly smacking heads with Cassian. “If that does happen, I’m gonna use you as a puke shield, okay?”

“Oh, sure you are.” Cassian’s eyes twinkled with some kind of mischief that Bodhi didn’t want to identify, and he scrambled to sitting just so that he wouldn’t be so close to Cassian’s face anymore. While he opened his laptop and started looking for music to play, Cassian grunted and readjusted the pile of blankets around his head.

Bodhi started blasting Fall Out Boy, because it had been that kind of day and he was ready to drop all pretense of being anything but masochistic and a huge nerd. Cassian snorted, but said nothing. Within minutes, they were both singing along at the top of their lungs, momentarily oblivious to the party outside as they serenaded one another.

It was well past midnight at that point, and Bodhi was starting to get drowsy, even with Cassian’s glorious voice belting “Dance, Dance” way too loudly for the small room. Avoiding eye contact with Cassian, he curled up across both beds, only to find that lying down brought him even closer to sleep. It shouldn’t have been surprising. As the song ended, Cassian flopped down next to him, murmuring, “I’m sorry for embarrassing you in class. And with Jyn.”

Bodhi blinked a few times. “What? Cassian, I set myself up for that bullshit, you don’t have to…”

“I know, but that class makes us all vulnerable, and I shouldn’t take advantage of that. Best friend or not. Especially when your writing is so  _ fucking good.” _

“I don’t—it’s random crap, Cass, it’s not—it’s not—”

Cassian shook his head. “Yes it is. I don’t know who you’re writing about and you don’t deserve to be pestered about it, but either way, it… honestly makes me adore you to know that you’re even more of a sweetheart in your own head than in real life.”

_ Oh, no. _ Bodhi didn’t know what that meant in Cassian-speak, but he knew his face was brick-red and getting clammy, and it seemed like the distance between him and Cassian was—closing—he reached a hand up to rub his bleary eyes, even though he no longer felt groggy in the least. Cassian was staring at him so fondly, with the kind of gentle smile he usually reserved for a panicking Bodhi or an upset Jyn, and his hand rested on Bodhi’s shoulder out of nowhere while his thumb rubbed gently up the line of Bodhi’s neck—his eyelashes were fluttering and he was  _ so _ close, so  _ warm— _

“Bodhiiiii, save meeeee…” Jyn sounded shitfaced, and Bodhi sat up fast enough to make himself dizzy, only faintly realizing that Cassian had done the same. They moved the dresser away from the door in silence while Jyn continued to whine, and once they finally unlocked the door and let her in, she swayed straight to the beds and landed face-down in Cassian’s blankets.

Bodhi followed her, thankful that she was keeping her stench of booze away from his stuff, while Cassian closed the door again. “Had enough of the party?” He dared to glance up at Cassian for a moment, still wondering what the fuck just happened—or almost happened—but Cassian was staring pointedly at the floor. Blushing, though. That was a bonus.

“I barfed.”

Cassian looked like he didn’t want to get too close to Jyn, but he still sat down next to her on the bed and pulled the tangled tie out of her hair. His voice was distant and unusually thin, which made Bodhi feel guilty for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand. “Thanks for sharing. Please don’t make a mess of our room.”

She rolled over, wincing miserably, and beckoned Bodhi to sit down on her other side. “Fireball… really hurts coming back up.” Finally, Cassian looked up at him, and they both burst into laughing when their eyes met.

_ “No shit.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cassian: bodhi let's have a sleepover and make out on our beds and cuddle and take our clothes off <3  
> bodhi: what is this kind platonic affection???? i don't deserve?????
> 
> I'm usually a Slow Burn kinda person but it's so hard when I just want everyone to make out and all my ideas are the kind of poor communication drama that I hate to read..I must stay strong
> 
> I only read over a bit of this because i've been trying to finish it for days, so let me know if it's. incoherent. i love y'all.

**Author's Note:**

> all comments, kudos, etc. are immensely loved & appreciated!! I haven't written non-oneshot fic in 6 years, so I'm a little scared of the commitment, but I really need a distraction from my own life and Rogue One is central to my soul at this point. Bodhi's anxiety/coping skills are based pretty strongly off what I've experienced and been taught so I hope they sound realistic and not like. me mocking a therapist.
> 
> I'm on tumblr too! casualhomesatanism.tumblr.com


End file.
